Harry Potter and the Laws of Power
by blueneck
Summary: Voldemort is dead, Harry's wife found comfort within the arms of another. So he risks everything for the chance at happiness provided by a new spell. A string of cliches with my own style.
1. Prologue: Fire

AN/ I do not own Harry Potter. Capt fangirlhumper, I mean JKR own the legal rights to him. If I was obsenely rich do you think I would be typing on an old ass computer. This is rated M for a fucking reason. Yes I am Editing it.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

His heart burned.

It burned with passion when he took work off early and bought a dozen roses to surprise her with.

It burned with love when he made reservations at her favorite restaurant.

It burned with mischief when he snuck into the house.

It burned with horror when he heard the cries.

It burned with rage when he saw the slicked back blonde hair.

And with two little words they burned too.

_Fiend fyre _

* * *

The man with black hair stood alone. In his youth his family's fear of his abilities made him alone. As he grew his fame made him stand alone. When he fought they left him alone because their fear of his enemy ruled them. When the man with black hair stood on the field of victory he thought he was no longer alone. But she was never his…

It was a muggy and wet day. Slight drizzle, everything seemed to have a touch of grey in it. Nice English weather then. And in this lovely English weather stood a man, he wasn't like any other man you would ever see. Perhaps it was his messy black hair. Or his piercing green eyes that seemed so dead. Many blokes wouldn't even notice that and would simply say "Cor, he's wearing a dress." Yet he remained unnoticed. He was good at that. People just seemed to walk a little faster when they were close to him.

_It was just so sudden_ Harry Potter thought,_ she was cheating on me, with Malfoy? No, it wasn't sudden, I just didn't see. I didn't want to see. _

He continued to stand in the rain hoping the cold would somehow sooth the fiery pain in his chest, the open wound whenever he thought of his so called beloved. _She deserved it; let her feel the effects of the fire that will not go out, if she lives anyways. _

_Burn_

Harry glanced at the wand that had remained his most faithful companion in his life. He held it in the flat of his palm; the sunlight gleaming off of its scarred surface seemed to agree with his decision.

_Burn…_

***flashback***

"_Why won't these runes align?" _

"_What's wrong Hermione?" a slightly younger Harry asked._

"_Lavender commissioned me a hundred galleons to invent a spell to find one's true love. I have it made but it's like the damn thing can't be completed." _

"_Why not?"_

"_The spell is designed so that you know where your soulmate is and how to reach him or her at the time of casting. But to get it to work apparently you need your soul to be wounded. Oh don't look at me like that Harry I know as well as you that you can only wound your soul in cold blooded murder." _

"_So how is it cast?"_

"_You just hold your wand like preparation for the point me spell and… why do you want to know Harry?" _

"_Idle curiosity."_

"_well OK Harry, and then you say the incantation._

***end***

"_Verus Diligo."_

The wand spun and pointed off into the distance.

* * *

The fire burns…

Harry Potter the slayer of Voldemort proved once again why he is the most dangerous wizard in the world. Why over a dozen countries that monitor his actions in fear, started to worry when he murdered his wife and her lover, and started to outright panic when his magical signature started to emanate once more from England's department of mysteries.

Because there are many things down there that explode when they get too hot.

The most dangerous man alive danced to the music of a roaring flame. The only thing on his mind: the desire to go further in and down, down to the one who calls him so. He doesn't notice the alarms blaring; he disables them with concussive hexes. The aurors that try to block his advancement simply turn into a ruby mist of blood. The wards surrounding his destination get ripped apart by his mere presence, the presence of Dumbledore's weapon. The iron will and clever mind forged from the fires of his childhood. The hard body crafted from strenuous sports and experiences that no child should face. And the soul that had been exposed to the deadliest curses in existence and fought them off, that had cast advanced magic from a dangerously young age. Body, mind, and soul contribute to the power wielded by this man. The weapon was crafted well, for it is the strongest wizard in recorded history. And nothing will stop him from reaching his destination.

The door that will not open stands in the way, a _reducto_ and there is a new door next to it. As he passes through the room that kills all that enter he doesn't notice any of the wondrous things inside. The curiosity that would have ensured his death has no presence in his mind. He has to reach her. Only when he reaches her will he be happy. No notice is taken of the strange substance that gets absorbed into his essence. For noticing it ensures death. All that is on his mind is _her_. Harry doesn't know her, yet she knows him; he knows her, loves her, and continues on. The Unspeakables step forward; for this man shamed them when he was only a child. They have crafted spells to be used solely to ensure his surrender. The knockout gasses fail against his magic and tainted blood. Charms are deflected. The conjurations destroyed. Absently passing them, dismembering them on reflex. Until…

_The Veil… _

Harry steps to the veil. The barrier between life and death. She is past it, where he doesn't know. _This claimed Sirius's life can I risk to cross? __It's either no chance or slim chance. Until I meet her I refuse to die. _Harry James Potter Boy-Who-Lived took the longest step of his life, and was no more. The veil fluttered in the empty ruins of the department of mysteries and began to burn.

The veil burned and the world ended.


	2. Chapter 1: Nothing

_Nothing_

_**There is nothing…. Maybe I should stop…**_

--flash back--

After Voldemort fell it was the classic situation, award ceremonies and parties. A desperate conglomerate of the celebration of life coupled with politicians attempting to organize situations where the sense of life that comes from being close to death and continuing to live, can be tied to their own images.

The-boy-who-lived had lived once more, and perhaps lost more then anyone else, again. The hangovers were rampant, the propaganda of a glorious victory being quietly shouted. And the warrior prepared to lay down his weapon, his greatest one: the mindset of a warrior.

Harry had found a suitably quiet place with all the chaos. Sure it was depressing, (it kept the fans away) but the graves surrounding him were old, people were to busy mourning the recent deaths of the more recent war. Harry was lying on a small mound in a grassy graveyard. An old graveyard that could be compared to an old man in that they both were getting quite the set of wrinkles.

He was simply basking in the sun trying to absorb the peace surrounding him into his nature. _Ron's probably nurturing a monster of a hangover, _Harry thought_, even I'm not stupid enough to try to out drink Seamus. _Harry closed his eyes and drifted to sleep mirthful because of his friend's simple behavior.

Green eyes shot open. Wand almost jumping to his hand… no one was there. As he prepared to stand up, a clinking sound gave him pause. Sitting next to him was a vial containing the familiar silvery filamentous fluid. There was a tag written in the unique scrawl of one Albus Dumbledore that simply said, _Harry._

_A pensive…_

And as Harry started to walk away he could have sworn he heard a small trill of phoenix song…

_I need a Pensive…_

--end flashback--

_The void stilled. _

_**Perhaps I can finally rest. Perhaps I can stop fighting.**_

_Whispers began to emerge from the oblivion surrounding what the man thought of as himself. Whispers of names, in voices he'd thought he forgot, but he was still there and still remembered._

--Flashback--

It was warm in the pensive. The headmaster was in his office sitting in one of his famous armchairs staring into the fire. It was obviously an old memory, for the headmaster's right hand was healthy and normal.

"Harry," he began, "this may be a memory, and I may not really be talking to you, but some things just shouldn't be read from a letter. Hopefully you will get this sometime after your victory over Voldemort."

Dumbledore's appearance seemed to collapse as if the world lied upon his shoulders. "Some things you should hear about from the mouth of the devil himself. I'm going to be completely truthful Harry, about the sins I have committed in the name of prophecy."

His gaze drifted upwards, "'Power he knows not,' I once told you that the power that was mentioned in the prophecy was the capacity to love." His weighted gaze drifted back down to the fire, "I was lying through the hairs in my beard Harry. You were born very powerful, and I did everything I could to ensure that the magic in you would continue to grow."

"Have you heard of the theory of mind, body, and soul? Interesting theory, it was devised by a muggleborn witch back during Grindlewald's time. Blood supremacy while not as violent then, was much more rampant and subtle. It was completely ignored when she originally presented her hypothesis because it was based off of some muggle philosophy. She was never able to get it published and died a few years before the end of the first war against Voldemort.

"It was a theory about the origin of a witch or wizard's power. Not what made a witch a witch, but rather why were some wizards more powerful than others. She proved her hypothesis enough for me to pay attention to it; when rumors of a young wizard more powerful than me, was potentially turning dark. She said magic power itself is convoluted in where it came from. She analyzed many people of different bloodlines, backgrounds, and personalities. She found the average person who neither played sports nor exercised any form of mental acuity were amongst the weakest she recorded. About a third of the more powerful played Quidditch. The other third were intellectuals who had executed large amounts of self study. The other third was random, except that most had either a history of casting highly advanced magic while young or got into a lot of fights in school. She theorized that three areas determined how much power would be accessible to wizards and witches. Body, Mind, and Soul.

"She figured that the magic that came from the body came from two areas. Your genetics and your body's physical condition; genetics were theorized after examining newborns and finding slight discrepancies in the very small traces of magic present in them with higher levels of power tending to be in halfbloods and purebloods. She pretty much proved that a person's physical condition determines how much power is available through simple experimentation.

"Power that came from the mind was theorized to have been created by will and knowledge. Will was theorized because a fellow scholar told her that breaking the imperious curse as opposed to fighting it actually uses no magic and that people who are able to break it the 'hard way' are generally much stronger then the average wizard. That goes against the commonly held belief that only a strong witch or wizard can break the curse, at least it did when they found a squib that was able to break the curse." Dumbledore shook his head before gazing into the fire once more. "Harry, I have known that knowledge is power since I was a child, but magic power doesn't cause us to search out knowledge, at least not directly. The more knowledge one has the more power one has. Knowledge causes Power, one can be powerful and stupid, but one cannot be knowledgeable and weak.

"The soul varies from individual to individual; it is her theorized random factor. It remembers what spells are cast by it and what spells are cast on it. When you survived that killing curse as a boy I tested your soul's strength," he looked up at the mantle where one of the many intricate silver items that were destroyed by Harry in his fifth year was kept, "I had never seen a soul growing measurably stronger before in my life, so I kept the strength of your soul under surveillance for a large portion of your life." The view shifted down again. "I imagine your soul is the tastiest thing imaginable to a dementor, which would explain why they would often head directly to you and try to perform the kiss." He sighed, "The other part of her theory is both well known and accepted. Casting certain types of spells over and over causes an affinity to develop and increases the power and ability to cast those types of spells. For example, all animagi are extremely skilled in transfiguration."

Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "I suppose you are wondering what this has to do with you," he chuckled and resumed his previous position. "I had to ensure you would be as powerful as possible: your genes were set, powerful, your soul was going to shake the world with its passage; you were going to need a lot of knowledge, a strong body, and a will that would never break. Your knowledge and your physical condition could be helped best at Hogwarts. But will, the foundations of will are laid in youth and forged in the fires of adversity. The reason I placed you in your aunt's house was twofold. The blood protections were the best option for protecting you short of a fidelius warded safe house. And that family's petty evilness would be the best place to either develop a will of iron or grow up with no will at all." He closed his eyes and shuddered. "I allowed a few innocent visits when you were young by people I could trust that would not frighten you and would stoke your curiosity to ensure that you would grow up a fighter and wouldn't surrender to those apparently in power.

"In your first year I allowed you to enter the Quidditch team early for the purpose of getting you in shape. In fact, if that whole fiasco with that personal possession of young Mr. Longbottem never occured then I was going to suggest open tryouts to Professor McGonagall 'in an effort to find hidden talent,' and might have reminded her that it technically isn't illegal for first years to play. I also arranged for you to receive the nimbus 2000 for your standard broom, the fact the centrifugal charms on that model were weakened to allow it to go faster was a major deciding factor. The only other time I had a major hand in your development that year, was when I planned for you to come into contact with three extremely powerful magical artifacts that year. The invisibility cloak that belonged to your father would help build your sense of self and provide you with an unrestricted path to knowledge. The mirror of erised directly targets a persons will; it is nearly impossible for those who have suffered to fight what they truly desire. It was a single hammer blow I sent towards you while forging your will. For the philosophers stone, interesting side effects were observed when I was a lad regarding short term exposure during times of magical exhaustion. In that situation a substantial magical growth period was recorded and made an exceptionally powerful wizard." Dumbledore paused and resumed with a twinkle, "oddly enough after I was exposed, I discovered the joys of lemon drops; before I was, I never could stand the things."

"In your second year, I let Hagrid be arrested for incentive, I introduced you to Fawkes, and gave you the chance to fight what I knew was down there and the tools you would need in an emergency. Little do people know, but magical creatures emanate part of their magic as part of a passive defense. That aura triggers a flight or fight response in our magic that causes our magic to do everything it can to either keep us alive or help us win, including acting through chance and luck. I wasn't sure if your magic was strong enough at the time to face a basilisk that old, but I knew your will wouldn't let you back down, and your magic would force itself to be strong enough. The fortuitous event when the basilisk bit you and fawkes cried on the wound, might have been an effort by your magic to help compensate for all the danger you had gone through in your life." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Because once that venom gets in your blood it will never come out, and phoenix tears wear off once they are no longer needed. So once your body was immune to all 86 different toxins present in basilisk venom, the tears stopped working. Harry, did you know that people tried to poison you on twelve separate occasions before the end of your fifth year? Poor Delores was worried that someone important might be eating the food she poisoned, young Mr. Malfoy was confused as to why you hadn't keeled over yet, and Severus was upset that he wasted his three rarest, most dangerous poisons on you."

"In your third year I tried to incite your desire for knowledge by having Remus recite tales of your father's animagus adventure days. That would have also built an affinity towards transfiguration. But you surprised me by learning the patronus and building an affinity towards defense. And that firebolt we were checking for curses; I finished checking it for curses after two days. I spent the rest of the time weakening the vastly more powerful centrifugal charm. Although your thirst for knowledge wasn't wetted that year, I was willing to try again."

"One of the reasons I tried to bring the triwizard tournament back was you Harry." Dumbledore's eyes darkened, "I never expected you to actually compete. I simply wanted a quiet year for you to study get to know your godfather and perhaps take the first few steps towards being an animagus. I loaned a few of the books that would have been a little difficult to obtain to Remus and was ready to get you started when your name came out of that goblet. It wasn't a total loss; you broke the imperious through shear force of will which forces a responsive growth in the soul. And you got some studying done, granted it was in defense. I figured you were on the right track when you told me that your and Voldemort's wands' connected, and that your wand forced the other to submit through the force of your will."

"Fifth year I allowed that incompetent to teach in an effort to get you to study more because of the very real danger of Voldemort that you had to face. I also believed I had to keep contact with you to a minimum until you learned occlumency to prevent possession. I wasn't expecting the natural soul trap you had developed in response to Severus's repeated probing."

"The next year is coming up, and there is no time for machinations anymore. I am going to prepare you by helping you get into the mind of your enemy and making you aware of the danger of his Horcruxes. I'm about to retrieve the Gaunt family ring and I want to ensure that no matter what happens, to me or anyone else, that you try to find happiness."

And with that the memory Dumbledore looked directly into the eyes of the troubled man standing in that pensive and said, "No matter what happens, I have committed too many sins against your life for you to be anything less than perfectly happy. If you have to destroy this world and fight through death, then do it."

The memory _unwove._

--End Flashback--

_OOOOOOOoooooooaahhhhhhh…_

_The whispers at the back of his mind had turned to bone chilling wails. The endless nothing surrounding him had thickened considerably. The thoughts of Harry Potter were dying and coming to a stop._

_**I… refuse**_

_**I refuse to end**_

_**I REFUSE TO DIE!**_

_With a surge of movement the sense of self that calls itself Harry Potter shattered the wails and resumed his flight through the void._

_**I want happiness. I want love. I want a family. **_

_**And above all else, I saw a glimpse of her. I WILL MEET HER**_

_The void boiled and as the emptiness disappeared a presence said __Memory of what lies here will be forgotten by all, however the Knowlege people have is theirs to keep._

_Nothing_ boiled away.


	3. Chapter 2: Breath

Chapter 2

_

* * *

_

…consider the basic lightning bolt spell: the massive power that is brought forth by this piece of "battle transfiguration" will blast through most shields capable of being cast by an average wizard. If a wizard were to spontaneously transfigure the air to an electrified state in an effort to blast their opponent with a _'real'__ bolt of lightning, then they would find the power requirements enormous and an average wizard would pass out from effort if they attempted this from any distance greater than six inches. The standard lightning spell, Telum Levitas, is not pure transfiguration. It is a combination of arithmetic properties associated with curses, charms, and transfiguration. Transfiguration creates a small electrical charge which is greatly amplified due to its charms elements. The arithmetic alignment for a curse is used to cast this amplified lightning forward along the desired path. That is the basis for most 'battle transfiguration'. _

Excerpt from _"Battle Transfiguration for Dummies"_

By, U. R. Bonehead

* * *

The boy stormed to his room. _Not a proper wizard, I'll show them. _The slightly overweight child swiped his broom from his floor, bashing it against the wall and his bedpost. He paid no attention to the damage he caused to the bristles, or the fact that they were dangerously loose as he took off through the window.

_Nobody loves me, _the boy thought as he flew high. _Nobody knows what I go through. My parents see me as nothing more than a disappointment. My siblings merely bring me pain because they will always be better than me, they are the ones loved. Nobody loves me. I WISH I WOULD DIE. _The force of the sharp turn he took at that thought caused the loosened bristles to fall off of his broom.

Modern brooms are relatively shoddy nowadays. In the olden days the shaft would be enchanted to be able to fly. It would draw on the magical power of the user to provide the propulsion. The bristles were charmed with stability charms. Unfortunately for the small broom companies of the time, enchanting was a difficult process that resulted in a broom that a family could use for generations as long as they replaced the bristles every decade or so. With the advent of the use of the cushioning charm to make the rather uncomfortable experience of riding a broomstick more pleasant, broom companies overhauled the design and used multiple propulsion charms to provide the stability and propulsion. Due to that fact that all forms of propulsion magic are closely kept secrets of the companies, each modern broom would have to be replaced every decade or two out of necessity. Broom companies no longer enchanted their brooms because enchanting is expensive and can last for thousands of years. As opposed to charming objects, which lasts for twenty years at most and any poor idiot can do.

Unfortunately for the boy who just lost his bristles, his broom was modern.

_"James he's not breathing!"_

_"Oh shit, how far did he fall? Quick we have to get him to Saint Mungo's." _

* * *

_The entity once known as Harry Potter managed to fight his way from what never was. Something drew him from the easy way out of limbo. Some sense of danger told him it would not be a good idea to breach the veil at its weakest. So he sought another path out. An eternity or instant later he came across a place were many had passed through and some sense of rightness told him that this was the place. _

* * *

Saint Mungos' was in an uproar. It isn't often that the heir of a noble house ends up in critical care after all. Healers rushed to and fro using charms to stabilize his body enough so they could attempt resuscitation before brain death. Little did they know; that it was too late and the boy was already a corpse. When faced with his impending death his magic allowed his soul to rip itself from his body and face death instantly so he would not know the upcoming pain.

"The spine has been successfully vanished sir."

"The lungs are supported and have been inflated."

"The spinal column is protected, and the ribs are stabilized."

"Damage to the heart has been patched, ready for resuscitation sir!"

Outside of the room that the healers were acting to save the life of a young boy, his parents were clutching each other in a desperate plea for their child to be all right. As the flashes of blue began, and repeated, they began to cry.

* * *

_The entity struggled along the path that, until him, had only been crossed one way. Suddenly he broke through the grey surrounding him. The entity understood that it could take any of the shells around him. They may have been occupied but they were ridiculously weak compared to him. He would be able to force them into the void easily enough. The entity was preparing to do just that when he was struck by a sense of wrongness. The entity realized of all the shells around him, he was drawn to the small broken one that had no hope of containing the entirety of his essence. So he hatched a plan. There was a small part of his essence that hadn't taken on any additional growth from his experiences; he would place that, plus fragments of the rest of his essence inside that shell and force it to heal and grow until it could contain the entirety of his essence. After that he would search for the other, the entity mused about the future as it collected a bundle of what it was and prepared it with the necessary directives. It hurled the bundle into the husk right as one of the other entities prepared to cast another flash of blue light into the empty shell. _

_Breathe, he commanded, and grow._

_The bundle had unwrapped to inspect its new shell. It found some damage it would have to fix immediately and went to work. _

_**Beat…**_

_Lub-dub_

_**Again…**_

_Lub-dub_

_**AGAIN!**_

_LUB-DUB… Lub-dub… Lub-dub… Lub-dub…_

_**Good. It's stable and beating now. The body just started breathing on its own. The other damage here can be fixed later. Time to check the brain to see who I am now; let's see, suicidal personality… screw that I'm replacing that with my will, courage, and character it may just be fragments of my personality but it'll have to pass for one for now. Some brain damage in the memory, I'll replace that with the fragment of knowledge I have at my disposal. That'll be good enough for now. The rest of the damage will be fixed in time. Now who am I going to be in this body? What the… so that's why I was drawn to this body. **_

_**Now awaken, Harry Potter.**_


	4. Chapter 3: Fragment

Chapter 3

* * *

_…through experimentation on the simple beasts commonly referred to as 'muggles' it is this noble person's belief that memory is not stored in the soul as is commonly known. But rather that memory itself has an aspect that is instead tied to the body. Using the accepted experiment that proved that memory is tied to the soul I have come to a different conclusion… The experiment is the commonly held practice of performing the cruciatus upon a muggle until their will begins to break. Following that the drought of the living death is immediately administered. The half of the subjects that survive, all admit under truth spells to having near death experiences. This has been the evidence to the commonly held belief that memory is tied to the soul as their soul knows that it had entered the veil lying between life and death. However, upon closer investigation it has come to this personage's attention that that they possess no actual memory of what the veil looks like. Furthermore, those that return to life with the knowledge that their 'loved ones' cared to depart upon them, have no actual recollection of their loved one's actions. It is this person's esteemed opinion that memory is tied to the body, and that knowledge is tied to the soul. _

An excerpt from _A Treatise on near Death Experiences Stimulated in Muggles_

By Algol Orion Black _c.1471-1612_

Member of the Noble House of Black

And Certified Healer

* * *

_**Wake up lazy bones**_

* * *

Harry James Potter woke up. The young ten year old woke up in a room of that particular shade of white that screams hospital. Some instinct inside of him had already responded to the color and was passing on a desire for freedom that was making him nervous.

"Good afternoon Mr. Potter," said the aged woman carrying a clipboard while closing the door. "That was a nasty fall you took, you are lucky to be alive young man." Her aged appearance and stern demeanor spoke tales of her professionalism and ability. "My name is Healer Green. Could you please explain to me how the heir of an ancient line came to be in my ward?"

"I believe I accidentally knocked the bristles of my broom loose when I took it out to fly, and they came off a little later," Harry responded."

_**Great Merlin, look at all of this angsty shit, I better toss it. **_

"And why, pray tell, did you knock the bristles off of your broom?" the witch asked incredulously.

"I'm not sure… I think I was angry. I don't know, I can't remember." Harry said with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Really," the healer said with a disbelieving look in her eyes. "I'll have to cast a few diagnostic spells then, so hold still."

She stepped forward and started casting a few spells. "So, when can I get out of here?" Harry queried.

"When I say you can," Healer Green frowned and checked something on her clipboard. "Stay here I need to check something with your parents." The healer marched out of the room, and down the hall. She reached the visitor room. It was a simple room, occupied by a woman with red hair, a man with messy black hair, a man whose presence seemed to shout scoundrel, and a coffee pot.

"Healer Green: is our boy going to be all right?" asked a woman with red hair.

"Your 'boy' is going to be fine; right now I have more important questions to ask. Such as, how in Merlin's name did you get his magical strength to increase by over half in less then a month?" The Healer demanded.

"What are you talking about?" The rascal asked.

"What I mean is, that in late June when he had his yearly checkup his magical strength, as scored on the new magic scale, was merely a two something. The scale has a logarithmic basis which means a 'three' is a quarter again as powerful as a two. Now, I just tested young Mr. Potter and he registered as a four something, and he is still showing signs of light magical exhaustion. Which means he is far more powerful than he was a weeks ago, and such growth is impossible in my opinion; now, how the bloody hell did your son get so powerful?"

The occupants merely gaped at the frustrated Healer. Until the rascal let loose a loud whoop, grabbed his friend by the arm, and proceeded to dance the can-can while singing _For he's a Powerful Wizard._ The women merely sighed at their antics and prepared to speak to the healer out in the hall.

"Judging by the antics of your husband and his friend, you had no clue your son was getting so powerful, did you Mrs. Potter?" Healer Green inquired.

"No, do you have any idea what could have caused it?"

"Well, theoretically it could be puberty. But the power boost is too significant for it to be merely puberty, which is why I asked."

"Do you think the near death experience might've affected his power somehow?" Lily asked, fearful of the answer.

"That is possible, however, large power boosts arising from near death experiences tend to cause…"

"An affinity for dark magic, I know. In any case, since Harry is now above a class three, could you please notify Professor McGonagall? Tell her about the late applicant for the upcoming year."

"Of course, however, young Mr. Potter will have to stay for observation so we can determine his final power rating, but I see no difficulties involved in notifying her of the incoming first year."

* * *

Later, the women sat on her bed pondering the sudden changes in her life.

_4.75, _Lily Potter thought, _James isn't worried, he just keeps shouting 'a true Potter' and goes back to celebrating. _Lily sat on her bed fidgeting with her handkerchief. _That kind of power is astronomical in a first year; he could easily be rated in the top five incoming new students in the case of raw power. Not to mention after his accident he's acting a little different. I'm happy that he's been reading more and he could have used the exercise that he's taken up. When I hug him I can tell it's still him, but when I look in his eyes it seems as if he's not all there. _She looked down, _not to mention he doesn't seem as angry as he was before. Harry is being kind to his siblings and he doesn't seem to have forgotten anything other than what happened that night. I don't know if he wants to remember… only time will tell. __The Entity smiled. __**This will give the untouched part of me a chance to grow along its own path. **__The entity took a time to admire itself. The spells of its life, both cast and received, measured in the growth of itself, in both size and specialization. The poisonous jagged spines created from the impact of a killing curse granting abilities in combat magic, commonly referred to as curses and jinxes, which any potential Dark Lord would sacrifice their mother's soul for. The debilitating inner light it carried that arose from defensive magic use and granted an ease towards casting such spells. And the unstoppable force, the measure of its will. The soul remembers, because the soul feels magic and remembers when it is fought off through pure will. It gazes at the serpentine qualities that it has possessed for the majority of its life, and notices that something is wrong. The snake-like qualities that measured its parsel-magic were gone. In its place is a quiet thing that possesses far greater strength; that seemed to be built of rage, wisdom, and patience. When it gazes at its new power and wonders its origins, an image of a room that is always kept locked appears. _

* * *

_The entity, the soul, does not remember its old life. It has no memory, no recollection. But it knows; that for some reason all its power was not enough… and it cannot become stronger or explore its new power until it is in its new body. It gazes down at its new shell, resting in its bed, and gives it a command…_

_**Accelerate the process.**_

* * *

Harry rested innocently in his bed and began to dream of casting powerful spells, unknowing that his ambition, rage, and the rest of his soul floated above him plotted ways for him to realize enough potential.

Harry woke up the week after getting out of the hospital. _They just had to keep me for observation because my body healed so fast it was almost as if my magic wanted me healed, _Harry chuckled_, magic isn't alive. _Harry jumped out of bed and began with his morning exercise.

As he was finishing up his run and approaching the front door, he mused "I wonder why I didn't start exercising last year when mom told me how I would be able to play Quidditch longer?"

_**Because, you were a spoiled lazy brat with very little interest in Quidditch? But that is some nice rationalizing your brain did for your shift in personality. Mind follows the soul, and the body the mind…**_

_Oh well, it's probably not important, _Harry thought.

A little munchkin of energy bounded onto Harry. "Big brother, big brother, why have you been running every day?" asked the energetic one.

"So, I'll be able to keep up with the clowns when they have another eating competition, Jimmy," Harry smirked.

Jimmy chuckled at that thought. Truthfully he was his father's son, cute, used to getting his way, and with a mischievous streak a mile wide. That isn't to say he was named James Jr. because he was exactly like his father, his hair is a dark red; in the traditional potter style, nonetheless. And, while he was a burgeoning prankster, he also had a spark of gullibility that his father tested mercilessly.

"Speaking of food I'm starved!" and with that Harry went inside.

Outside little Jimmy stood staring at where Harry stood a moment before. _I know mom said not to treat you any different after your fall, but you're acting very unusual big brother_. Jimmy looked at the front door and narrowed his eyes, _because you hate being called big brother, that's why I call you it._

Inside his mother was standing at the stove, "Good morning Harry. How was your run?"

"OK"

"That's nice dear," Lily said as she resumed scrambling the eggs. _I can never get a straight answer anymore out of you, you're always fine or OK. _She shook her head and returned attention to the eggs before she burned them.

A few minutes later she turned around and saw Harry sitting perfectly still, hands folded, doing nothing, staring at nothing. _Harry…_

A girl walked into the kitchen. She was very similar to her mother in basic appearance, however, her eyes were hazel and her hair was black. "Is Harry being weird again?" she asked.

"Violet! Your brother is not weird," Lily blurted, "besides he is your older brother, so show him some respect."

"Fine."

A tall wild man bounded down the stairs, and into the kitchen. His black hair was in even more disarray than usual. "Morning honey," James gave his wife a peck on the cheek, wrapped his arms around her and whispered a few sweet nothings into her ear.

"James I have to serve breakfast. Now stop nibbling on my ear and sit down."

James stopped embracing his wife and noticed that the last of his children had entered the kitchen. "Good morning Junior, good morning Violet, good morning 4.75," he greeted exuberantly.

**_4.83 I believe; it's been a week. But this shell is going to need to be much more powerful for the rest of my essence to be contained here. I will live on, instinct insures that I will..._**

* * *

AN: Sorry this is late, but midterms came up last week. I should be able to resume writing this weekend and post something next week. I didn't like this chapter, but his siblings had to be introduced and the timeline was off for him to get the letter. Next chapter _Wands._


	5. Chapter 4: Letter Montage

* * *

AN: I own nothing. I shirk any and all resposibility for the actions of my characters.

Chapter 4

* * *

_Everyone has the potential. Everyone has an inner animal which reflects their personality. All inner animals are based off of the personality of the mage. Certain attributes will contribute and combine with other aspects in order to form the 'basis' of the inner animal. For example, consider the attribute of pride, if a mage is prideful then the type of inner animal will be restricted to a particularly vain creature, or if the pride is well earned, to a type of cat. This manuscript will be for the sole use of the family and contains step by step instructions on how to become an animagus. It includes history; abilities granted by awakening your inner animal. A final warning, this book can be shared with the friends of the family but betrayal by spreading knowledge gained within or mentioning it's existence, through accident or intention, the line of the betrayer will end. The family of the betrayer will mark its loyalty through the curse of the Cuckold. _

_Chapter 1_

_The practice of discovering a person's inner animal was used in ancient times to supplement or replace the practice of occlumency…_

Introduction to _The Animal Within (unpublished)_

Compiled by _William Potter_

* * *

_Another universe_

_She wasn't breathing. Her blonde hair, so vivid in life, was dull and stained with mud. Her ears had gaping wounds from where her radish earrings were ripped out. And her eyes, the eyes that seemed to see so far into his soul, were blank and dead._

'_Fucking hellfire,' the warrior thought, 'they targeted you because you were my friend. They can't take my family from me so now they are killing my acquaintances. But people always underestimated you. They didn't know that you were the one to see the core of what I am; the one who could always say something to give me comfort.'_

_The black haired warrior looked at the sky. 'Don't worry I'll get them back for you. I'll make sure that they pay.' _

_The wizard raised his wand to the sky. The air screamed as a jet of flame erupted from the tip and began to create a spreading pool of fire in the skies above. The black robed fighters, that thought they had their worst enemy finally cornered, backed away in fear as the sheet of boiling flame grew and swirled above their heads._

"_Burn in hell you fucking tossers." With that simple statement, he brought his wand down._

_The deatheaters' screams filled the air for miles. It rained fire that night. The stench of burned human flesh lingered there for years._

_It is unknown how many deatheaters died in that small abandoned town. However, there was one witness to walk out of that death trap after everything within had been melted into glass but everyone is too afraid to ask him…_

In a slightly different universe, a blonde girl woke from the nap she was taking. This girl was younger then her counterpart, her hair was shorter and she was wearing cork earrings. She blinked owlishly at her surroundings.

"Oh my," she said, "the Dusk-Flitters don't usually bring me such fun dreams this time of day." She glanced back at her house, "Oh well, I'll see him next year. Now, time to shock daddy with a new word I learned, the last one gave him chest pains." Luna Lovegood skipped back home with the intention of giving her father a coronary.

* * *

Professor Dumbledore reached into his bowl of lemon drops again. His blue eyes were not twinkling in excitement of the upcoming school year, but rather he was in deep thought about the situation that occurred at the last staff meeting for the head of houses.

--Flashback--

"…The wards in the third floor corridor are almost fully powered, thanks to Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector, and we are ready to test their effectiveness in preventing the casting of the three unforgivables…"

"But Albus, are you sure wards will be enough?" inquired Professor McGonagall.

"Of course not Minerva, which is why we will be constructing as many physical defenses as possible; each member of the staff will contribute an idea and we shall select the best of the bunch."

As the Four stared at the latest announcement of Professor Dumbledore, the locked and sealed door opened and a woman in oversized glasses entered.

"Professor Dumbledore, my sight has granted me a vision of a great danger approaching Hogwarts."

"Was this before or after you were told the sorcerer's stone would be stored here for a year?" McGonagall murmured under her breath.

Dumbledore sighed, "Thank you Sybil, but we're just going to have to endure. Now was there anything else?"

"But this danger is great…"

"Sybil!"

"Sorry for troubling you Professor."

As she turned to leave from the staff room, she stiffened imperceptibly.

"Sybil?"

Her vision cleared, the third eye opened and nothing was there except what she saw. She spoke the speech of one who is forced to see:

**A Dragon approaches**

**The Serpent has chosen the Lion**

**The Lion is young, and grows stronger still**

**But their fate is uncertain**

**For the Dragon lays waste to all**

**Run little Serpent, a Dragon approaches**

And with that her vision clouded and was once more normal. Her mind rejected the horrors of what it had seen. And she awoke to stunned silence in the staff room. "Err, um, beware of the danger."

Her abrupt departure shocked the staff back into normalcy.

Dumbledore's eyes grew hard. "Make those defenses as strong as possible. I'll make the necessary recording."

His eyes shifted to his staff, "Do not mention this at all."

--End--

His wand went to his head and pulled a silver strand from his bushy mess of hair and placed it in his pensive.

* * *

The day had arrived. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, it was the type of day that if you saw a young girl break out into song you wouldn't be surprised if some woodland creatures showed up for the chorus. Unless of course you lived in the city that a certain post owl was flying over; the inhabitants were stirring, and as they went to fetch their papers, wondered where the hell this weird weather came from. After all, this is England, sunny happens to other countries.

The owl continued its flight unimpeded by human concerns about the weather. It approached its destination. A moderately sized house, placed in a moderately sized town called Godric's Hollow. The owners of this moderately sized house actually owned the majority of the town's land. The rent kept a steady flow of cash going that was used for a sole purpose. The purpose, that coincidentally, was the same one that owl was flying to that moderately sized house for.

Breakfast was a noisy affair. Little Jimmy was using his fork and knife to play the 'drums'. Violet had Teen Witch Weekly out on the table. And James was plotting revenge against Sirius for turning him green, again. And young Harry sat eating and smiling bemused at his families antics.

"Enough, settle down you lot," said Lily slightly exasperated. "Is it too much to ask, to get a quiet breakfast in the morning?"

"Maybe," Jimmy and James responded.

The family blinked and gave a glance to Harry, _Why didn't he say 'maybe' too? _

Harry looked at them and said, "Mail's here."

The owl flew in and dropped a green envelope into his lap. It was unusually heavy, and made out of a type of parchment. As he opened it, one word stood out: Hogwarts.

James suddenly lifted Harry out of his seat and tucked him under his arm, "Diagon Alley here we come. Now children, to the floo!"

"Put on some pants first Dad!" Violet called out.

"What, don't you want the alley to know how great of an ass your father has?"

* * *

The owls flew en masse across the country. The farther they traveled the more they spread out. Except for four particular birds. Those birds approached a familiar hodgepodge of a house. Observers would wonder why it didn't fall down in a light breeze, and would often get cricks in their neck if they stared at it for too long.

Then two of the inhabitants broke the peace, causing the house to shake a little.

"Congratulations-"

"-ickle Ronniekins-"

"-you're going to Hogwarts!"

A young boy stumbled out of that house clutching a green envelop in his hand. _Bill was head boy, Charlie Quidditch captain, Percy's a prefect, and the twins are, well, the twins. _He idly ran a hand though his now red and gold striped hair. _They've done so much, and all I'm good at is chess. _His gaze drifted to the pond. A small bug landed on the water and caused a ripple to pass half its length.

_4.9, Bill was the strongest of the five and he was a 4.3. _Ron blinked, _wait if that means I'm the strongest at this age then I should be able to be better then them at something._

If a butterfly flaps its wings there will be a storm on the other side of the globe. Magical advances, caused by a single muggleborn that managed to survive the war, will cause a far greater storm.

* * *

Another owl approached a rather luxurious manor with cleverly designed landscaping. The landscaping was so well designed, that one would have the illusion of an empty expanse of wilderness as far as the eye could see from anywhere on the grounds. The owl landed on an overhanging branch above a dark window. It paused as voices emerged from within the depths of the darkness.

"As expected from the Malfoy line, your son tests extremely well for his age."

"He will rule Slytherin house, and eventually Hogwarts."

"Young Draco is a 4.7 and rumors place Master Longbottem at a five something."

"That is unacceptable but unavoidable. Our former master's art will balance the scales in our favor.

"The Malfoy's will remain at the top."

The owl resumed its flight to search for a young boy with blonde hair. Its green envelope glinting in the sun.

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was grungy as usual. A couple of hags moved their glasses out of the way of incoming spells. Watching those two fight was a common occurance and the normal patrons had long been desensitized to their antics.

Aludra was observing her foolish husband being cursed by his best friend. A very powerful witch, she had an exotic air around her. Her silvery blondish hair and ethereal beauty labeled her as a veela. Sirius had managed to turn the tables and had James in a headlock. _My husband is a fool, but he is My fool. And no one else makes my heart laugh so. _

--Flashback--

"Hey, baby would you like to find out how prehensile my tongue is."

It was a standard situation for Aludra. Her Veela aura had attracted another inebriated weak minded sap. She sighed, and with a focused blast of her aura to scramble his brains, brought her will to bear on the moron, "Leave now."

Believing the problem solved she turned her full attention back to her drink. She was shocked when the same voice said, "What don't I deserve a name for using such a cheesy and classless pick up line?"

She turned her attention in wonder to the man who threw off the veela charm with ease. His clear eyes showed no signs of being affected. He smiled a roguish grin, "Is that a maybe?"

The veela stared at the man who was immune to her charm as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. The rest was history.

--End--

Aludra smirked at her husband who had been turned into his animagus form. _And a very prehensile tongue he has. _

* * *

The four adults were wandering through the alley and keeping a close eye over the six children. Violet was talking with her brown haired best friend Mira. Jimmy was plotting with Sirius's middle child Castor. And their youngest, Electra, at the tender age of five, was running around Harry and generally confusing him.

"The doctor said he was a 4.75?" asked Sirius.

"I thought he was almost too weak to go?" Aludra queried. "And since Longbottem and Malfoy are on the board of governors, he wouldn't be allowed to go. Because allowing 'Potential jealousy regarding the vast power difference between our respective children endangering certain incoming students, merely for a borderline case' Potter, whose father we hate, to attend would simply not do."

"They were worried he'd kick their children's superior asses!" James exclaimed.

Lily smacked her exuberant husband. "James, at his previous strength he would have lost any duels he took place in."

"Well nobody can stop him from going now, all children above a four are granted automatic admittance," remarked Sirius.

A soft cry drew their attention to the children. Harry had somehow ended up buried beneath the rest of the children. Jimmy and Castor were sitting on him while the girls were tickling him.

"James Pollux!"

"Castor Atlas!"


	6. Chapter 5: Prey

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

_A school is a noble idea. A place where there can be the free exchange of information and ideas. Such an idea could only lead to more innovation and invention. Yet why is it that since Hogwarts opened its doors there has been far less new spells created annually? This question remained unanswered until Miss Blake invented the numeric power level measurement system. I have observed that young wizards of significantly more power are looked up to by their peers. I have seen a Ravenclaw with abysmal grades be treated by his classmates as if he was the smartest one in the house. Slytherin's with more magical power are deferred to by richer and more influential members. The one who leads the Gryffindors in the tally of number of inter-house fights (Slytherin) is almost always the strongest one in the house. The strongest Hufflepuff is simply the most liked one in the house. _

_It seems we didn't need the NPM system; we seem to automatically notice people that are stronger then us and defer to them. This behavior probably becomes so ingrained that those that could have made a difference, are unable to break their habits and end up in dead end ministry positions…_

_Research Diary Wizarding Culture_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _

* * *

Olivander paced in the back room of his store. The simple workshop was filled with intricate tools, delicate crystals, and floating candle-less flames.

"My children, times are going to be very interesting," He smirked. "I believe a new record has been set, I don't believe I have ever seen so many of your powerful siblings choosing their companions in the same summer."

Olivander looked at the many boxes lying in wait against the wall and shook his head. "Not only did I sell the only wand I have ever made from the heartstring of an Alpine Black-eye, but I also sold the brother to _that_ wand."

His gaze lingered fondly on the cases of his many children. "We are indeed living in interesting times."

The rippling amusement that originated from the many wands surrounding him only agreed with his assessment.

* * *

Neville Longbottemstepped through the barrier around the platform and into a crowd. Chaos surrounded that poor boy. Children were running every which way, and above it all, the scarlet Hogwart's express puffed small clouds of steam. As he was walking towards the train he heard snatches of conversation.

"Well then let's see it Lee."

"Mum I've lost my toad."

"Oh, Wayne."

As he made his way through the crowd he brushed by a young witch with bushy brown hair.

"Now Hermione, young girls are usually silly. And this is a new school, so you shouldn't have much of problem making friends if you find people that you have something in common."

"Sure mom, I'll try to make some friends."

"That's all I ask sweetie."

With a final hug, Hermione separated herself from her parents and boarded the train, and was almost run over by a pair of identical red haired boys.

"Sorry, no time to chat-"

"-but a ponce is after us."

She blinked owlishly at the disappearing duo.

"Get back here you two!" roared a red haired youth wearing the school uniform, a red and gold tie, and a pin that said _ponce. _

She watched the third red head leave the car in pursuit of the other two and said, "I suppose that made sense, in a twisted sort of way."

"No one truly understands the actions of Gryffindors," a young Indian girl remarked from a nearby compartment. "Padma Patil," she extended her hand, "would you care to join my friend Mandy and I in our compartment?"

The bushy haired witch smiled, "I'd love to."

In another part of the train…

"Hi I'm Wayne Hopkins."

"And I'm Anthony Goldstein."

A small smile grew on young Harry's face, "I'm Harry, pleased to meet you."

"Hey, um, Harry do you think you could help me find my toad?" Wayne pleaded.

* * *

The Sorting Hat did not have a difficult life. For while it was a sentient magical artifact, it sat on a shelf in the _headmaster's_office. Its purpose was not just to sort the students, but to also provide the headmaster knowledge into the inner workings' of the mind of a child. Salazar knew that eventually an incompetent would end up in office. So, he added the feature that would allow the sorting hat to give advice, but never relay personal information. That feature is one that has been used by every headmaster except for Phineas Nigellus Black.

As it was singing its song to the amazed first years the Sorting Hat thought, _it only took me two hours to come up with this stupid song. It is rather funny that they don't know that I spend most of my time watching the teen soap opera that is their lives. I love being tied to Hogwarts._

"When I your name you will sit on the stool and place the Hat on your head. Abbot, Hannah."

_Easy, definitely a __**Hufflepuff**__!_

"Brocklehurst, Mandy"

_Sharp mind, loyal, but a profound love of books, __**Ravenclaw!**_

"Goldstein, Anthony"

_A little difficult, you love to learn but are fiercely loyal. You figure your friends are going into Hufflepuff, and you want to stay with them. Very like a __**Hufflepuff!**_

"Granger, Hermione."

_A little bit of bravery to stand up for the little ones, but you are defiantly first and foremost a __**Ravenclaw!**_

"Hopkins, Wayne."

_Eh, you're willing to work hard? That characteristic is so rare nowadays, __**Hufflepuff!**_

"Longbottem, Neville"

"Did she say Neville Longbottem?"

"_The _Neville Longbottem?"

The Hat smirked as the boy approached. _The boy-who-lived, I will do my best to sort you._

Neville placed the hat upon his head.

An explosion of information flowed into the hat. Potential, courage, and skills. _Powerful indeed, but difficult very difficult; where should I put you? Not Slytherin? Are you sure? You could be great you know, and Slytherin would help you on your way to greatness. No? Better be __**Gryffindor! **__And may Salazar forgive me…_

"Potter, Harry."

_This isn't right. There is a hunger about you, a thirst for power, but it isn't yours. I can't tell if you have courage, because you have no fear. You are perhaps the easiest child I've ever sorted. Through and through, you are the manifestation of the loyalty of a __**Hufflepuff! **__No child is as simple as you, either you or I are missing something._

Time went on, and sorting continued. The school politely clapped with every announcement. No one was surprised when Malfoy went to Slytherin. And there were no more surprises until near the end.

"Weasley, Ron."

_Another Weasley? Unlike your brother's, you understand cunning and strategy. You have courage yes, but you desire to be better then your brother's. There's only one place for you. And it's __**Slytherin!**_

The applause was polite. But several members of the audience were shocked with these turn of events.

The boy himself approached the Slytherin table and sat with surprise evident on his face.

* * *

_Outside the Great Hall, across the lake, and over the woods. The entity railed. The wards, designed to protect the students, recognized a predator and reacted accordingly. The entity flailed at the wards, it wanted to live again. And it could only do that if its body was strong enough. However, its will would not be denied for long…_


End file.
